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Sunday, August 15, 2010

The misadventure that never teaches....

Sunday mornings. Supposed to be Sabbath. The day of rest.

Ha. Not so much. At least not till 12:45.

Here is how it goes.

The kids want to eat. Every single week. They don't get the hint that even though I keep buying frozen breakfast in bulk from Sam's that I want them to microwave them and eat them. Without a riot. Or eat cereal. We have covered that already and apparently it is too much to ask.

And so I feed them.

And then I ask them to get dressed.

And then I tell them to get dressed.

And then I yell at them to get dressed.

Just being transparent here...

And then when there is just enough time for me to get a shower and get us there ...someone will bring me something to launder or insist they need a shower.

Then  I usually can no longer even pretend to be calm. This teachable moment becomes our least favorite of the week...

Minimum of two of us are crying by now.

It is four against one....and they are unionized. They can't find a hairbrush to save a life but I swear they hold secret meetings about Sunday mornings.

Then hopefully I am dressed and we have 12 minutes till service starts.

"Please get your shoes on and wait by the door."

In the car with 8 minutes to go. Somebody has something they shouldn't or doesn't have something they should. Sometimes we fix it, other times I no longer care.

I crank the music and drive fast. I need to keep the music up louder than the children can argue...because I rushed them and didn't provide proper transitional warnings...and they are now cranky.

We are there....I thoroughly threaten the children about proper decorum and how they should march directly to get their tags and not stop to kiss daddy good morning, or get a snack from the green room or act like children in any possible form.

And Kaya has two different shoes on. Because she likes them. That's the consensus.

But I have tunnel vision. I can, if I  have laser focus, get them to their classes so they can spend at least an hour with someone who will be nice to them and find a seat hopefully not too long after the first song or two. Mission Sorta Accomplished.

Sometimes when my short-term memory is not functioning we do this Saturday night and Sunday morning. Like this weekend.

And then I spend the day recovering and seriously considering church online.


  1. And you love every minute of it.

  2. All I heard is that you got to church on time. You win!